


Husband to Make Me a Wife

by WildcatPacer



Category: Hunger Games Trilogy - Suzanne Collins
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-17
Updated: 2019-01-17
Packaged: 2019-10-11 16:20:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,776
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17450285
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WildcatPacer/pseuds/WildcatPacer
Summary: "And who might your gentleman caller be?" I tease. I guess - though it isn't really a guess - Rory Hawthorne. He and Prim have been dancing around each other since they were small children. Oddly, Prim flinches again, her eyes nervous. "Um... well... it's not for me. He asked to pay a call to you." I freeze, my mouth dropping open in shock....Why would I be getting a caller?"





	1. Chapter 1

**Chapter 1: Gentleman Caller**

It is another quiet night at our home in the Seam. Or at least, that is what I pretend, as I busy myself setting the table with my younger sister, Primrose. Tonight is the evening meal following the Reaping for the annual Hunger Games, and all families in District 12 are having the evening meal to celebrate that their children have been spared another year. All families except for two, anyway. At 16, my sister just survived her fifth Reaping. Only two more to go. It should be a reason to celebrate, indeed.

All the same, I frown as I watch Primrose add a third plate to our meager table. Mother almost always takes her meals in bed, where she has been ridden since the death of our father nearly a decade ago. "Is Mother joining us tonight?" I nonchalantly ask.

My baby sister starts a little, as if she has been found out, and even blushes a little. "Uh... no. We have a guest. I ran into him in the market after the Reaping, and he asked if he might pay a call."

I can't help but smirk, my curiosity piqued. Prim with a boyfriend? She is old enough, and I marvel at how she has blossomed into a fine young woman. With her blonde hair and Merchant features, she is fairer than I am, and I'm twenty. Boys will be lining up to Toast the bread with her.

"And who might your gentleman caller be?" I tease. I guess - though it isn't really a guess - Rory Hawthorne. He and Prim have been dancing around each other since they were small children.

Oddly, Prim flinches again, her eyes nervous. "Um... well... it's not for me. He asked to pay a call to you."

I freeze, my mouth dropping open in shock. Normally, my pride would demand that I stalk from the room in anger, but my sister made an honest, even innocent mistake, so I can't really fault her. But the question remains: why would  _I_  be getting a gentleman caller? My sister knows well my opinions on marriage, opinions that I have held since I was a young girl. Opinions formed in no small part due to the death of our father, and how this event all but destroyed our mother emotionally. I should at least be thankful that it was Prim and not Mother who trapped me in this evening. Even from her sickbed, most of Mother's conversation to me has revolved around me taking a husband before she passes, all under the guise that she wants to make sure that I'm "well taken care of." Never mind that I have told Mother more than once that I am never getting married. Considering she lost her husband, I would think that Mother might be sympathetic to my reluctance to entrust my heart to any man.

Then again, perhaps what I  _want_  is something that Mother has never even considered, preferring instead to focus on what the family  _needs_. And that is money. Economic security. Mother has been running a decent Healer business ever since she married Daddy, at least until the accident, when Prim took over, but her pay was at the mercy of whatever the poor people of the Seam, and the struggling middle class of District 12 in general, can afford. Primrose is only sixteen, still not safe of the Reaping, so she can't be married off. That leaves me.

Thank goodness I haven't changed out of my blue Reaping dress - the nicest frock I own. For just then, I hear a knock on the front door.

"Get that, will you?" Primrose asks, being sure to send me an apologetic look as I go to obey. Opening the door, I involuntarily shrink back, clapping a startled hand to my mouth when I realize who has been invited to dinner.

Darius Freeman is a 20-year-old Peacekeeper in District 12, distinctive for his flaming red hair flowing down to his shoulders, and his unusually friendly demeanor. Unusual for someone of his profession, anyway. When I have traded in the Hob for the game I hunt to feed my family, he has always bartered handsomely for them... even if in between these, he has openly flirted with me, haggling for a kiss as payment. It is a trade I have always rebuffed.

"Hello, Katniss," Darius beams.

"Hello, Darius," I reply, shifting my braid back behind my shoulder nervously. "Won't you come in?"

After dinner, Primrose makes herself scarce, saying that she is going to check on Mother in her bedroom, leaving Darius and I to talk. Darius resorts to carrying what little conversation there is, as he helps me wash the dishes at the sink. For someone as blunt and even coarse as me, I am grateful that he gets right to the point.

"I care for you deeply, Katniss. You are one of the most admired women in the district. As strong-willed as you a beautiful - quite the catch. Would you consider accepting my hand in marriage?" And he takes my hand with a smile.

Even as I was half-expecting it, his proposal nonetheless shocks me. I don't answer for a long time as I think it all over, weighing all the Pros and Cons in my head. Marrying a Peacekeeper, even a private like Darius, is exactly the kind of economic security that Mother has been seeking for me. For a poor young Seam woman like me, there are only a few options for advancing above my station. One would have been to become a Victor of the Hunger Games (a feat that District 12 has only accomplished twice in the last 76 years, and only once by a woman). More than this, I would be the wife of a Capitol official, guaranteeing for me a level of safety that the rest of the district could only dream of. There would be no hassle in being assigned a house, as all couples must go through when getting married at the Justice Building; I would likely move into Darius's home in the Peacekeeper Barracks.

However, every Pro has a Con to go with it. Darius explained to my family and I during dinner that he is paid a "healthy stipend" as part of his commission. The only problem is, I don't know what he means by "healthy." And if what I have seen of the accommodations in the Barracks is any indication, I highly doubt that such a stipend could sustain two people, especially a husband and a wife. Besides, my trades are mostly conducted through barter; rarely am I paid coins for my kills, so I would not add to Darius's income in any meaningful way. Yes, marriage to a Peacekeeper would grant me safety, but what kind of safety is left out of my control. On the one hand, it could mean my ability to conduct my illegal hunts and trading with absolutely no fear of repercussions. On the other hand, a status as a Peacekeeper's spouse could add an extra level of scrutiny that would make such hunts all but impossible.

Then there is the issue of the Barracks. Darius may have his own house, but the Peacekeepers still practice communal living. Theirs is a militarized lifestyle with relatively few opportunities for romance or sex. Though marriage for them is not technically forbidden, it is highly discouraged by higher-ups in the ranks, so most cadets abstain from marriage in favor of illegitimate couplings that more often than not result in bastard children without fathers. To have a woman in their midst, even if I would be the wife of one of their own, would not prevent Darius's comrades from trying to have their own way with me. I may be able to one day submit to being a wife, but I would be a faithful wife. Not a trophy wife and definitely not a sex toy to be passed around or otherwise change hands. Ultimately, I would be in close quarters as a form of temptation for other men, and have little privacy outside of Darius's one abode. Perhaps not even that.

Then there are the Unknowns. Would Darius expect me to sleep with him? Surely yes; it's what spouses do. And the proposition of sex has never excited me before. Besides, sex - especially the unprotected kind - often leads to babies. Babies who grow into children who are Reaped for arenas to die. Would Darius want children? In openly marrying where there is technically no rule against it, he would be free to pursue fatherhood with me. But I have never wanted children or to become a mother, for fear of losing them to the Reaping. So that is something I will not abide. What if Darius were reassigned to another district? If I were his wife, I would be compelled to go with him to wherever a new commission might take him, thus leaving behind my homeland and my family. What other difficulties would come from marrying a foreigner? For Darius is not from District 12, and our people take great pride in marrying one of our own kind, right down to class. Even marriages just between Merchant and Seam - like my parents' - are rare and frowned upon. Would I be seen even more differently in taking a husband who hails from one of the Career districts, possibly even the Capitol itself?

But of this I am certain: even for someone as adverse to sex as me, I cannot deny that Darius is handsome. He must be attracted to me, flirting with me and proposing, but I can't imagine why he would be. I am mostly skin and bones, with small breasts, and none of my mother or sister's more Merchant features.

As I am thinking all this, I have been absent-mindedly running my fingers through Darius's hair, sizing him up. I gaze into his deep blue eyes. He squeezes my hand and brings me back to reality.

"Can I kiss you?"

I blink. He is the only man who has ever asked me for a kiss before. But no one has ever kissed me. I have always been cold towards the subject. However, a kiss might be the best way to determine if Darius and I have potential, if I feel anything deeper for him at all.

I raise an eyebrow. " _May_  I kiss you?" I correct him. Then I shrug.

"All right."

Darius beams, almost as if he is pleasantly surprised. "Then, you'll allow it?"

I nod grimly. "I'll allow it."

Darius's hands encircle my waist and the back of my neck. Pulling me tight against his body, he kisses me full on the mouth.

I gasp as his lips seal over mine. I am unsure, as the sensation of kissing a man is brand new. I feel Darius's lips open up against mine and I try to match him, so that his tongue slips in between my parted lips and down my throat. I let out a choked, gargled sound at the contact. Darius is a good kisser. My skills, however, remain to be seen. I weave my fingers into Darius's hair, pull him closer and shut my eyes, doing my best to kiss him back. Trying to sell it, I fling one arm across his shoulders.

As we kiss, Darius's hands grope lower, beneath my waist. I feel him touch my butt, cupping one cheek and giving it a squeeze, and then he boldly raises my leg to hook around his waist, so that the hem of my blue dress rides up on my thigh. I don't fight it, as I cradle my hips against his, and even wriggle my pelvis along the clear evidence of his desire for me. It is a stiff, long thing, and it leaves me strangely curious. Encouraged by this, Darius sweeps me into a dip, bending me back over the counter. I close my eyes in pleasure and surrender fully, purring contentedly. "Mmmmm..."

At that moment, the door opens from across the room. I lean back and wrench my lips free of the kiss, our arms still around each other and with my leg still in a compromising and very sexual position. My face and kissed lips flush in mortification as I briefly look askance to see my sister staring at us, open-mouthed.

"Primrose," I gasp, my breasts heaving with arousal, my irises dark and not leaving Darius's eyes. "Go back to Mother. Not a word." She knows enough to obey. Eyes wide, but appearing... almost pleased, she silently backs into our mother's bedroom. Even after the door closes, Darius and I do not move from our position.

"Yes," I find myself breathing. "I will marry you."

Darius beams, and with our eyes heavy, we wordlessly move as one and share another long, deep kiss.

* * *

When a woman gets married in District 12, there are really two ceremonies that she goes through. The first is the official one hosted by the Chief Clerk in the Justice Building, signing the marriage license so that you are wed in the eyes of District 12 law. The second ceremony occurs in the privacy of one's home - assigned by the Capitol. The newly married couple toasts a bit of bread over their hearth and share it, sealing it with a kiss. No one in Twelve feels truly married without a Toasting.

Primrose helps me in front of the mirror, changing me into Mother's wedding dress. Then she escorts me to the Justice Building, where my groom awaits in full Peacekeeper regalia. Mother is also present, her bed wheeled into the spacious office. Though she has been fading in earnest, she is aware enough to be happy and see her eldest daughter get married.

The Chief Clerk blesses me and Darius. "I now pronounce this couple husband and wife." He turns to Darius. "If you like, you may kiss the bride, Private." Darius takes me in his arms and kisses me; I kiss him back as Primrose dutifully applauds.

That evening, Darius carries me across the threshold of our new house, just on the edges of the Peacekeeper Barracks, and we Toast a bit of bread over our hearth. With Primrose and Mother watching, by the light of the fire, Darius and I share the bread. I had to teach my spouse what to do, but he seemed enthralled by the tradition in a way that I find cute. The glow of the embers dancing in my grey orbs, my lips slightly parted, I tilt my head and permit my husband to kiss me. As Darius and I embrace and passionately kiss, the coals in the fire slowly swallow the heat, letting the fire die in the night.


	2. Fuck Me

**Chapter 2: Fuck Me**

I skin the rabbit for my dinner, my thoughts going to the one place that torments me. My weakness that I now angrily try and bat away. I should never have made myself so vulnerable!

I once vowed to never get married or have kids. I saw how marriage can destroy a person. My mother was destroyed by my father's death. Unfortunately, Darius's seduction of me into marriage, and the pressure of my sister getting married to Rory Hawthorne did not help me stay resolute in my vow. Add the fact that Darius was unexpectedly transferred to District 6 three years into our marriage. The Head Peacekeeper there did not allow him to bring his wife with him. Darius had no choice but to depart on the train, kissing me goodbye at the station when I and a pregnant Primrose went to see him off.

And then there is...  _him_. Him and that infernal bread he had to toss to me.

I have always hated owing people. Most Seam folk do, even if they take a debt very, very seriously. I should have thanked him. I should have thanked Peeta Mellark for tossing me that bread that undoubtedly saved my life. And I should have grudgingly admitted just how... handsome he was. Is. Perhaps... if things had been different...

A sudden flash of movement through the glass panes of my window makes me take pause. Someone is approaching. Wiping my hands on my dress, I go and open the door.

There is the Baker's son, coming up the path. I cross of my stoop to meet him halfway, wiping my hands on my blue Reaping frock. "Is there something you want? Because now might not be the best time -"

He suddenly grabs my skull and yanks me forward, crashing his lips against mine in a searing kiss. He kisses me passionately. Right on the lips.

I give a startled squeak into Peeta's mouth. I have never kissed, nor been kissed by, a man who isn't my husband in my life. Peeta releases me roughly, panting. I gape at him in shock. My palms come to press into his chest, and for a moment, I see fear in his eyes, as though he thinks I'm going to push him away. But then my fingers fist the fabric of his shirt and I almost angrily mash my lips to his, kissing him back. A kiss in return.

I breathe deep through my nose as I deepen the kiss, exhaling into his mouth so that my lips part for his. We open our mouths to each other and moan as finally, after years of wordless foreplay and stares of longing as I pass through the bakery on trades, we physically join in this way.

Peeta's tongue battles for dominance with mine. His arms entangle about my waist, splay across my back, as he pulls me flush against his muscular form. Shocked by his eagerness, I stagger back into my house, dragging him with me. My fingers fall into those blond curls of his that I have always wanted to run my fingers through, and I jerk him closer with a low groan, my breasts heaving for every breath. "Hmmmmm... Mmmm... M-mmmmmm..."

Our heads thrash from side to side as our lips snap at each other with desperate pecks, deep make-out sessions so engrossing, it is hard to tell whose lips are whose. Where his mouth ends and my mouth begins.

Peeta's hands now begin to wander. Slipping beneath my waist, his palms caress and feel up the accentuated, curvy flesh of my ass. His digits, his fingernails dig into the flesh there, squeezing, cupping the extra skin that has unfortunately built up there as I have matured into full womanhood.

"Mmm... no... no..." I whimper weakly into his mouth.

Peeta gives my buttocks a firm slap, and I yelp into his lips, so that he accidentally catches my lower lip between his teeth, nipping it. Draping my arms languidly about his neck, I hold on as Peeta's hands sweep my butt and under my thigh, raising my leg to his waist. Deeply aroused, I allow it and hook my leg around his torso with little resistance, so that my skirt rides high up my creamy thigh.

Peeta sweeps me into a dip, holding me gently, even as I gasp against his tongue. Then, Peeta lifts me off my feet, hoisting me onto my kitchen table. He clambers on top of me as I squeeze both my legs around his hips. Our lips claw at each other as we continue to kiss furiously. I feel the cool evening air tickle my folds, and I know Peeta has done away with my panties. I buck my soaking wet center into his pelvis.

"I want you to fuck me," I growl intensely, my eyes clouding over with lust and pent-up frustration about to be shattered and anger at how our sexual tension has gone on this long. I know I am betraying my wedding vows, having sex and making love with a man who is not my still-alive but long-departed husband.

And I don't care.

Peeta slams into me without another word. I throw my head back into the wood of the kitchen table, my jaw going slack, my eyes rolling into the back of my skull. I jerk my body violently into his, matching Peeta thrust for thrust, our bodies undulating frantically as we both race each other to completion. To see who will cum first.

"Uhhhhh... Guhhhhh... HUHHHHHHH! UUHHHHHH! OHHHHHH!" I moan loudly and long, moan like a whore who goes to the Peacekeepers for a good fuck. My cries are even more pathetic when one considers that this is my first time in a long time having sex, sleeping with, a man. But it has been worth the wait. I waited for the right person, even though he's married. Even though  _I_  am still married. What a dirty woman I am!

At last, with a growl, Peeta comes inside me. He claps a hand over my mouth as I continue to keen and cant into his pelvis, to muffle my cries.

"MMMHMMMMMMM!" With a muffled squeal, I orgasm all around him, squeezing him between my legs. These legs that I so easily spread and opened for him because I have wanted to have my way with him for years. If there is anybody I would have wanted to marry, considered marrying, it would have been him. It should have been him.

Peeta releases me. Dipping his head, he kisses me indecently, bashing his tongue down my throat. I don't mind, as I close my eyes in pleasure and kiss him back. We break apart with a POP!

"I've left my wife," he pants. "She knows, and she has released me. I love you, Katniss Everdeen. I always have. After my divorce, will you marry me?"

I stare deep into his impossibly blue eyes. Slowly, I nod.

"Yes, Peeta. I will."

* * *

Peeta and his wife, Delly, divorce. And one dark night, in the living room of my simple Seam abode, I adorn myself once again in Mother's wedding dress. The bridal gown Prim wore after me.

By my fireplace, Peeta and I perform the marriage ritual. We toast a bit of bread and share it. When Peeta pulls me close, I press my hands flat into his chest, gazing up at him with only a tiny bit of fear. Hesitancy at the unknown.

We're doing the right thing. We'll make this work. Somehow.

Tilting my head, I permit Peeta, my new husband, to kiss me. My eyes fluttering shut, I relax into the kiss, standing on my tiptoes to meet him.

We are two people who have finally found each other. Married to the person we should have been with all along.


End file.
